Sincerity
by Jaganashi
Summary: Surely by now, Donnie has learned his lesson on where he stands with April. Why then, does he find himself in her apartment on Valentine's Day? (Specifically 2k12 'verse)
Donatello stood in the middle of April's small apartment living room, mentally cursing whoever had decided to elevate Valentine's Day to the romantic and endlessly awkward holiday status that it had. He cursed corporate commercialization, for insisting that February was the time of year to express love with elaborate gifts and gestures. He even tried cursing Casey Jones for monopolizing April's attentions on this day. In the end, however, Donnie realized that he was mostly frustrated with himself.

For someone so smart, he certainly had trouble learning his lesson.

The apartment was empty and quiet as the turtle fiddled with a small box within his hands. It was February 14th, and he knew that April would be out with Casey. Don had smiled politely when April confided in him their agreement to make each other's gifts, as both human teenagers were struggling in that financial gap between newfound independence and adulthood. She had been genuinely excited about the scarf that had taken her weeks to knit, woven with the bright colors of Casey's favorite hockey team. Don had given her words of encouragement, despite the burning sting in his heart where the greed for her affections still lingered.

And now he was standing, uninvited, in the privacy of her home. His mind screamed at him to leave, to backtrack now while he still had a chance of not totally overstepping the line and making things uncomfortable. Again.

His legs felt as if they were filled with cement, heavy and unmoving. He tried to tell himself that this was different. It wasn't a music box with his picture in it. It wasn't over the top or overbearing. It was simple, and friendly, and practical.

 _And shaped like a heart, you dork._

He cringed, fairly certain now that it had been a catastrophically terrible idea to come. April knew how he felt, and took great measures to avoid confronting those feelings. He had toned down his gushing the last few years, and immensely enjoyed the easy friendship that they had developed. He had hoped that his affections would dim with time, and he knew better than to jeopardize their relationship just because things didn't work out as he would wish for. Unfortunately, his feelings had grown deeper as she became a fixture in his family's lives. Still, it was no reason to be selfish and behave in a way that would ultimately push her away. What was he even thinking?

His hand clenched in defeat, crumpling the cardboard box and causing the decorative paper to tear around the corners. He started to slink morosely toward the window that he had entered from, mentally berating himself so thoroughly that he missed the sound of a key sliding into the lock. The front door swung open, freezing the turtle in his tracks about five feet away from his planned exit. He considered bolting and hiding, but the option only promised to make things worse.

So there he stood, looking guilty and embarrassed as April stepped into the room. Her eyes never lifted up as she closed the door behind her, locking it before stepping out of her shoes. Her gaze was downcast, mouth tilted in an unhappy line. She sighed deeply, the sound of it carrying a sad sort of resignation. Donatello couldn't help himself as he asked, "Everything okay?"

She yelped and whirled toward him, her hips dipping to lower her point of gravity while her arms raised to fighting stance. His hands went up immediately in a gesture of peace, making April relax and send him a scathing look for frightening her. Bright blue eyes darted toward the box held up in one of his hands, but he swung his arms down and around his back before she could get a good look at it. The small box fit snugly into his wide belt. He rocked back and forth on his heels chuckling nervously, his face a little red from being caught. "S-sorry for the scare. I thought I'd come by and see if you wanted to hang out, but then I remembered what day it was."

It made him feel lower than dirt, lying to her. But he needed to give her, no, both of them the opportunity to pretend that nothing had happened. She didn't react at first, just watched him with a scrutinizing expression as he swallowed, mouth suddenly parched. After a moment, she broke the tension by removing her jacket to hang it near the door. She brushed her hand over the material a little more violently than needed, apparently blowing off some sort of steam. Taking her actions to mean that she was peeved at his intrusion, he ducked his head in shame. "I was, uh, just leaving. Casey's probably on his way up, so I'll get out of here."

She barked out a laugh that was harsh and angry, making Don flinch. "Oh, he knows better than to come over here."

He shifted uncomfortably, not sure exactly what he was supposed to do. When she turned back to him, her brow was knitted in displeasure and her features were tense. Her scowl softened, however, when she realized how uneasy Don seemed. She sighed, trying to release some of the negative energy, then apologized. "I'm sorry Donnie. I'm just...in kind of a bad mood."

A part of him thought that he should be happy that the idiot had blown his chance at a romantic night with April. The image of them together was like bile in the throat. But the sound of hurt in her voice made his heart clench in sympathy. She deserved to be happy, even if he didn't care much for her choice in men. Though Don envied the opportunity Casey had been given, in that moment, he wished nothing more than for her to have come home with a smile. He rubbed the back of his head, searching for the right thing to say. "It's okay, April." He offered a soft smile. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She pulled her hair loose of its elastic band, running her hands through her scalp in a way that was almost fidgety. Don recognized it as a gesture usually reserved for particularly long days or hard training sessions. "No." She combed her fingers through her hair, actually making it worse rather than better. "Yes." She frowned, then turned to walk down the hallway. "I don't know."

He peered around the corner to see her disappear into the bathroom, then emerge again. She walked back out to flop on the couch, a hairbrush in her hand. She pulled it through her hair a few times before giving up, tossing the brush to bounce against the cushions of the couch. "Ugh!" She huffed, her hand waving dramatically as she began to speak. "You know what? I didn't even want to go on the stupid date. This so-called holiday has always seemed so forced and cheesy, you know?" She barely took a breath before continuing, not expecting an answer. "But he insisted on it. Bugged me to give him a chance to 'wow me with the Casey Jones charm.' Ha!" She crossed her arms indignantly. "I think he just didn't want the stigma of being alone on Valentine's Day. Because there I was, and I was not wowed."

After catching her breath, she picked up the brush again. She turned it over in her hands, picking at the bristles absently. It made Don think of something April had told him when Kirby had been mutated and missing. She had been pining for the comfort of her father, and had wistfully commented on how he would sometimes brush her hair when she was upset. The turtle had eagerly offered to do the task himself, and had been shot down on the spot. She had seemed a little creeped out by the offer, so why was he thinking of repeating the mistake now?

Donatello spoke from behind her, where he had moved to be near the couch. It took all of his focus to deliver his words smoothly, attempting a casual tone. "Would you feel better if I brushed your hair?"

Her silence unnerved him, and he tried to steel himself against the rejection. An awkward apology was already forming in his mind when she held the brush up beside her. She had to glance back at him before he realized that she was waiting for him to take it. He accepted the brush and gently started pulling the soft bristles through her hair like he had seen her do oh so many times. He would start somewhere along the scalp and work downward, hesitating at the occasional tangle. He loved the feel of her hair through his fingers and was careful not to pull too hard. He was on his sixth stroke when she sighed and settled more comfortably against the couch, allowing her hair to drape over the back of it.

Her eyes slipped closed and he smiled, happy that he could help his friend relax. It warmed him deep down to know that April felt comforted in his presence. She spoke again, her voice laced with the softness of disappointment, making his grin wilt around the edges. "I thought there would be lots of couple-skating. Share a pizza, play some games, ice skate together. But some of his buddies were there, and he _knew_ they were going to be there. He had planned to play hockey weeks ago, before even asking me out. I was just an...afterthought."

Donatello sighed, but held his tongue. Pointing out that she shouldn't be surprised hardly seemed like the appropriate thing to do. As if mirroring his thought, she continued, "Not that I should be surprised, I guess. He didn't even have a gift, like we had agreed on. He said that he was going to make the 'game-winning goal' for me. That would be my gift. Oh, joy."

Don thought that he had a neutral-ish response to offer, starting to feel self-conscious in his own silence. "I'm sorry that he didn't treat you the way that you should have been treated, April. I know that you want more from him."

She scoffed and shook her head, the newly brushed hair falling around the sides of her face like water. "That's just it, I really _don't_ want more from him. It's just that...I guess I just want sincerity. If you offer something, be genuine about it. Don't try to force something that's not there. Not for a holiday, or entitlement, obligation...not for any reason other than how you really feel and what you really want."

He brushed the hair back away from her face, letting it glide smoothly through the bristles. He hummed in agreement, "That's a terrible way to treat someone. Without sincerity."

Her body stiffened suddenly, her head turning to do a slow side look at the turtle. He cocked an eye ridge in question, "What?"

She looked at him a moment, eyes narrowing in thought before shaking her head in dismissal. Her words were so quiet that he nearly missed them. "It's...nothing."

Donnie frowned, certain that he was missing something. He pried further, "Come on, you can tell me." She shook her head again, "You don't want to hear it, trust me on this."

He walked around the couch to sit on the stool, facing her. He caught her gaze and held it, determination lighting his soft brown eyes. He tried again. "Whatever it is, it seems like it's important. Please, April. As a friend. Just tell me."

The stress and tension crept back into her features as she looked away, eyes darting around as she considered her options. When her eyes met his again, there was the conviction of a decision. "You brought me a Valentine's Day gift, didn't you?"

He swallowed reflexively, fingering the hairbrush nervously. So much for pretending she hadn't noticed. "Well, it's...it's a gift. But, uh, I shouldn't have brought it over. Not today." The look on her face was quite displeased, spurring him to take a more defensive tone. "Hey! I had decided not to give it to you! So you shouldn't even be allowed to hold it against me." He could feel the heat rising to his face, and he could tell that he was starting to show how upset it made him to be put on the spot. "You don't have to let me down or anything, okay? I get it. I just...thought it was something you could use, and I got a little carried away while making it. It's not a big deal, and you're not even going to see it anyway." He took a deep breath, having rushed his words out anxiously. A thoughtful look crossed his face as he added, "What does that have to do with treating someone unsincerely? If anything, it's the definition of sincere."

"Sincere?" There was a mix of pain and hesitation on her face, as if she were trying to explain a difficult and sensitive topic. "Donnie, you were all over me the day we met. I was literally a random person on the street, and you instantly went into obsession mode." She held up her hand to cut off whatever he had opened his mouth to say. "No, hear me out Donnie. You wanted to know, well here it is. Don't get me wrong, you have no idea how grateful I was for your help. I still am. But just how sincere can the affections of a stranger be?" His face looked as if she were crushing him with her words, but it was too late to stop now. She glanced away so that the words would come more fluidly, like ripping a bandaid off. And this was going to be one hell of a sore. "Sincerity is _knowing_ the person that you have feelings for. You hardly knew me at all, and you treated me like you were love-sick. But it's just the infatuation of, I don't know, my gender? My age? A culmination of things that say _what_ I am, but not _who_."

He jumped in when he saw the opening, quick on the defensive. "I admit, I came on really strong that first year we met. What I did know about you, I liked. I can't help that. And yeah, I crushed a little too hard. But you have to admit that the way our lives are, we got to know each other really well, really fast. You came to live with us for months! The way our worlds were thrown together, we got to see each other's highs and lows and so much in between." His voice grew more excited as he spoke. "We've saved the world together! We've faced failure and heartbreak together. You've always had an effect on me, and I can't help the way my heart flutters when you take my hand or kiss me on the cheek. But that doesn't mean that any of it is insincere. I love you."

Don's eyes got a little too wide as that last phrase slipped and he made a little gasping sound. He hadn't meant to blurt it out, but he wasn't about to take it back, either. He expected April to look shocked by his confession, but she remained unfazed. Had she not heard him? Or was she really, honest to god doubting his words?

There was discomfort in her voice when she finally responded. "To feel that way about someone you hardly knew, it wasn't love. You're projecting, Donnie. You've projected the things you wanted on to me, and I can't- and won't live up to that idealized image."

He couldn't believe this. He could respect her rejecting his advances and simply not feeling the same. But to outright deny what he felt, it was appalling! He laughed, but there was little humor to the sound of it. His voice rose a few octaves, straining under the implications of her words. "Is it ideal that you often have a snide comment when someone fails at something? Is it ideal that you focus more on a botched attempt than the fact that they at least tried? Is it ideal that you're bullheaded and stubborn to the point of putting yourself, and sometimes your friends, in danger?"

Anger flashed brightly across her eyes, voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "You really know how to woo a girl."

He threw his hands into the air excitedly, gesturing at her as if she had just proven a point. "I'm not trying to woo you, April. I'm being honest. Maybe it's you who can't decide if sincerity is what you really want."

Silence fell upon the room like a weight, making the air heavy with tension. The glint in her eyes told him that she was fuming, but she had yet to spew any more accusations at him. Don carefully set the brush down next to her, then rubbed at the back of his neck. He sighed, willing to be the one to swallow his pride rather than argue. He started by giving a little shrug, his voice adopting a calmer tone. "Look, April, I get it. You can't make people feel this way or that, and that's not what I'm trying to do." He locked eyes with her, voice determined to leave no room for question. "Nor can you dismiss the feelings that people do have. I love you, and there's nothing you can say to diminish that. Trust me, I kind of wish there were." His hand rested softly on her knee as he gave her a smile that was a little sad around the edges. Her eyes softened as he bared himself to her, letting her see that his so-called infatuation was bitter-sweet at best. "But I will continue to love you for as long as our friendship lasts, which I hope to be a very long time. It's not dependent on what I want you to be, or how you feel about me in return. That...doesn't seem to be how love works."

Her eyes shone wetly, but her expression was too enigmatic for him to predict what would come next. It happened so quickly: he had barely processed the fact that she was leaning forward, then her lips were on him. For the first time in his life, April was pressing her mouth to his. He could feel the muscles in his face go slack with astonishment, hand frozen in place on her leg. Her breath was warm as he inhaled, eyes slipping closed to enjoy the sensation of soft lips parting against the lines of his much wider mouth. He wanted to return the gesture, but wasn't quite certain how they fit together so he resigned himself to letting her lead. Her lips moved against his experimentally, making his heart hammer against his plastron. He felt a slender-fingered hand slide over top of his own, and he made a happy little humming sound.

As if his voice had broken the spell, she pulled away so that they could look at each other. Her cheeks were tinted red with a deep blush, and it took every ounce of the turtle's self-discipline to refrain from panting as his mind reeled. Apparently, he had forgotten to breathe the whole time. She tucked some stray hair behind her ear awkwardly, but her other hand remained on top of his.

He reached behind his shell to retrieve a crumpled little box and handed it to her a little sheepishly. In for a penny, in for a pound. "It's after midnight, so it's technically not a cheesy obligatory Valentine's gift."

She accepted it with a thoughtful look, inspecting the torn paper and crushed corners. She set it in her lap before responding, "That's good. Because this is all that I have for you."

His brow knitted in confusion as he glanced around. "What's all that you have?"

She answered by pulling him in for another kiss, her free hand reaching around to drape between the back of his neck and shell. He leaned into it gently this time, the hard line of his mouth suited more for nuzzles and tender little nips than technical kissing. They were both grinning unabashedly when they parted, foreheads leaning together with companionable ease. She could hear the wonder in his voice.

"I can't imagine a more amazing gift."


End file.
